


Nothing Left to Lose

by truealpharoar



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, I'm Sorry, Kids aren't dumb Caleb is, M/M, The author has chronic pain can you tell?, Throwaway line about glass inspired by my headache-inducing friends, Whump, he/they willie, suicidal thoughts (not explicit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truealpharoar/pseuds/truealpharoar
Summary: Willie's journey - from his first rebellion against Caleb, to Caleb manipulating him back into trusting the club, to the canonical events of the show, to Willie getting punished by Caleb, to more!
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Caleb Covington & Willie
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	Nothing Left to Lose

Telling the boys about the stamp wasn’t the first time Willie rebelled against Caleb. He had done it once in the beginning, when he had first sold his soul. They had never liked authority, and Caleb had apparently caught onto that within seconds of meeting them. So the fact that Caleb was the authority at the club? Yeah, that wasn’t mentioned until after Willie had signed his soul away. 

And then, Willie had caught on. It started small, with them noticing that Caleb was always the star of the show, night after night. But, hey, Willie was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just that talented, maybe he deserved the spotlight. 

But then they started noticing bigger and bigger things - They saw the man yelling at someone for a good reason, then a bad reason, then no reason. But, okay, still. Just because Caleb might have anger issues, it didn’t mean he was an authority figure, or that he had more power than anyone else in the club. 

———————————

And then, one week in 1993, every one of those excuses Willie tried to make to himself about why Caleb wasn’t a bad person was thrown out the window. From what Willie gathered from pieces of gossip here and there, Caleb had been in the middle of a Big Deal. He was seconds away from having this A-list celebrity lifer sign away their soul when a woman who worked at the club - Flores - burst in on the deal, stopping it in its tracks. Caleb had been furious, and he had stamped Flores. She flickered from existence not long after that.

Willie had tried to run, then - sure, maybe ghosts could poof all over the place, but maybe he could hide, get somewhere that Caleb would never find him. Oh, what a fool they had been. Caleb owned their soul, which meant that he would always know where they were. Willie had managed to have a few days of blissful, glorious freedom. They hadn’t realized how much they had been suffering under Caleb until suddenly they were free. But then things had resolved from the Flores situation, and Caleb realized he was missing a soul.

Willie had been hiding out in a skate-park in Germany, perfecting his tricks and moves, and only occasionally looking over his shoulder. After all, they figured, Caleb had hundreds of ghosts in his employ. He wouldn’t notice Willie’s absence, they had told themselves. But then, mid-leap, Willie had spotted a face in the crowd - a face that was looking right at him. A familiar face. Caleb. Willie missed his landing, clattering to the concrete floor below.

He had tried to run - again, foolish, why was he so dumb, no wonder Caleb always managed to outsmart him. It wasn’t hard, after all, a toddler could probably outsmart Willie - but Caleb had quickly caught up, grabbing onto Willie’s arm. Where their skin touched, Willie felt freezing cold. It had been so long, Willie had almost forgotten what it felt like to touch another human being. But there was little time to dwell on that as Caleb poofed them back into the club, specifically a little private room. That had amazed Willie - they had never managed to do jumps larger than a hundred miles in any direction. It had taken them days to get to Germany The hand on his arm didn’t move, and Willie collapsed against Caleb’s hand as Caleb sat him down in a chair.

“Oh, William.” Caleb had said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “There, there. I forgive you.” Willie had looked up, then, looked into Caleb’s eyes - which held, shockingly, no malice. “Wha-?” Willie mumbled, confused.

“Why, I understand why you ran, child. But it’s alright. We’re home, now. You’re safe.” Despite the fact that Willie had firmly placed the club in their rear-view mirror, the words brought them comfort. Safe. That felt…. Nice, to be safe.

“It’s a real shame, you know.” Caleb had continued. “When someone dies young, like you did, they’re caught in a stasis. They - and hence, you - will never mature, never grow. But it’s alright. You just need someone to guide you, to lead you in the right direction. And I’m more than happy to be that person for you.”

Willie had known, instinctively, that something was wrong about what Caleb was saying. But every day they had spent away from the club had drained them, made them feel like they were fading. And now that he was back in the club, Willie felt marginally better - but he still wasn’t fully there, and his brain felt like it was stuck in a haze. So he was just… too tired to really parse what exactly was wrong with Caleb’s words. Maybe nothing was wrong with them, after all - was what they had thought. And as Caleb handed them a glass of water, which Willie didn’t need, but as he drank it it made him feel better nonetheless, Willie couldn’t help but subconsciously associate Caleb with safety.

Caleb had left the room, then, letting Willie rest, eat, and drink. He tried to recover his strength, but it seemed like that was just going to take time. So when Caleb came back into the room, they felt only slightly better - but they still managed to mutter out a few words.

“How come you’re willing to forgive me, when you didn’t forgive Flores?”

Caleb looked confused for a moment, before it seemed to click for the man. “My boy, is that why you ran? That hazard to society?” Willie, still weak, simply nodded. Caleb sighed, shaking his head as he sat down on a chair, facing Willie. “I didn’t want to do it, but she left me with no choice. I couldn’t let her hurt anyone else.” Willie looked puzzled, then. “What are you talking about?”

Caleb looked at Willie, seeming almost - amused? - for a moment, before returning to a kind smile. “I stamped her because she attacked someone, William. You didn’t know?” Willie shook their head, but they supposed that made sense. Ghosts couldn’t die twice, but they could be hurt, or so he’d heard.

(Years later, they would find out that Flores had never hurt a soul, not in her life nor her afterlife. But that’s neither here nor there.)

“But you have to understand, William, I did it to protect you. I couldn’t let her hurt you, or anyone else in the club.” Willie nodded, feeling foolish. Why had they listened to the gossip? Caleb was so kind, and he had given Willie a home when they had lost everything. Of course Caleb wouldn’t have wanted to hurt anyone. “Well, take the rest of the day off. You’ve missed a couple days of work, what’s one more!” Willie looked up at Caleb and shook his head. “No, no, I- I want to work.” Maybe working would do something to quell the deep pit of guilt that had arisen within them.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that was that. For seventeen years, Willie went along with the club. He did whatever Caleb said, and when he didn’t Caleb was quick to remind the boy about how he just wanted what was best for the club, what was best for Willie. And Willie fell for it - hook, line, and sinker. After all, you only felt guilt when you did something wrong, right? And Willie had gained a sense of guilt that never seemed to go away. It haunted them, day and night. It loomed over them, baring its ugly head whenever Willie thought that maybe, just maybe, something was wrong.

The first respite Willie had from the pain was when a beautiful blonde bundle of nerves came crashing into their life. And, for the first time in years, he no longer felt the ever-present burden that had followed him since Flores’ fading. He felt free, and he felt happy, and he just wanted Alex to feel the same way that he did. And so when Alex and his friends had asked about becoming visible to a lifer, they pointed them towards Caleb. Because they just wanted him to be happy. They wanted him to feel safe, and comfortable, and everything that Willie couldn’t manage to feel any more, despite everything Caleb had given him.

(Later, they realized that ‘despite’ was more of a ‘because of.’)

But then Caleb had stamped the boys - had used the very tool that the man had claimed he had only used the one time Willie knew of because he wanted to protect the club - and they had done nothing to show that they would hurt anyone. It was like Willie had been dunked into cold water. He was suddenly realizing just how wrong everything was all over again, realizing how he had been manipulated, brain twisted and molded into what Caleb needed it to be.

In case all of that wasn’t bad enough, there was a little voice in the back of Willie’s head, saying hey, maybe you’re just a dumb teenager. Maybe you’re just too immature to understand what he was doing. Maybe you should just shut up and listen to Caleb. Willie wasn’t quite sure what to believe, even though (almost) every bone in their body was screaming that what Caleb did was wrong. So Willie followed them - because maybe, just maybe, Alex or his friends would do something to show that they posed a threat after all. It would hurt Willie, sure, but at least then he could fall back into his comfortable mindset of thinking nothing was wrong. Of thinking that he hadn’t sold his soul to a monster.

But they did nothing of the sort.

They played music.

They talked to Julie.

One of them went to an elderly couple’s house. Willie wasn’t quite sure what happened there, because they left almost as soon as Alex’s bandmate arrived. They checked in on the couple later, though, and both of them were fine.

They went to a café, and Caleb threatened Willie. Which was slightly ironic, given that it added to the pile of evidence that was stacking up against the man.

But above all else - nothing, no nothing the trio did indicated that they posed a threat. And the truth thrust itself in Willie’s face, screaming “Here I am!” It was almost too much for Willie to take, and then the pit was back and it was deeper, deeper than it ever had been before. If Willie was being honest, it almost seemed bottomless, now. So Willie did the only thing that they thought could make the pit shrink - because man, they had fucked everything up with that cute blonde boy who made their heart go into overdrive - they helped Alex and his band. And yeah, it would hurt a hell of a lot when Alex crossed over, but at least then he would be somewhere that Willie couldn’t hurt him anymore.

And if Willie got hurt? Well, maybe he deserved it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Did you hear?

What?

They escaped. Caleb’s ‘new band’, whoever they were.

What?

They escaped. They crossed over. He didn’t get to them.

How?

Willie.

Willie.

Willie.

= = = = = = =  
The whispers followed them, when they arrived back at the club. They felt eyes on them, eyes of people who they thought they could trust. Nobody really was friends in the club, nobody really formed true connections, but the employees talked to each other. At least, they had talked to him in the past. Nobody dared talk to him now, they just stared. Stared into Willie’s soul. He had hoped, prayed, that maybe, somehow, Caleb wouldn’t find out about his transgressions. But that was a pipe dream. If everyone knew, there was no way Caleb didn’t.

Still, though, Willie went about his day as normal. Tonight he was on waitstaff, making sure that ghosts and lifers alike were fed and happy as they watched Caleb’s show. At first it seemed like everything was normal as they flitted from table to table - normal, save for the looks that their fellow employees kept sending their way.

The strange thing was, not all of the looks were hateful ones, or even negative ones. There were some (a very small minority, but still some) who looked at Willie with a strange sort of pride? Or perhaps jealousy. Like he had done something that they wished they themselves could do, but they didn’t have the courage. But he hardly had time to dwell on that fact before the pain hit.

It was blinding, like a white mass of fury that coursed through Willie’s body, reminding them of decades ago injuries, from a truck that had been going way too fast at just the right time, a truck that had hit a boy who maybe, in another life, could’ve been someone. Could’ve done something. Could’ve amounted to more than - another one, hot, like fire. Like a million scorpions were crawling all over their back, stinging, stinging, again and again and again and- ice. Cold, cold like blistering winter, like -

And then, as quick as it had come, it was gone. It was gone, leaving Willie laying on the ground, curled into a ball and shaking as he clutched his knees tightly to his chest. Someone was standing above him, the person he had been on his way to deliver food to when the pain had hit. They nudged Willie with their foot, scoffing. Ghost, then.

“Get up, you lazy bum.” Came a low grumble from the ghost that stood above them. “And get me more carbonara.”

Willie pulled themselves to their feet, still reeling from the leftover effects of the pain that had ricocheted through their body. They glanced down at the ground, spotting the plate of pasta that they had dropped when the agony had started. Oh well, the ghosts on cleaning duty were some of the ones who shot him the dirtiest looks anyways.

“Yeah, or I could get you a plate of shattered glass.” Willie mumbled under his breath, looking at the ghost he had served, who shot him a glare back.

“What did you say, you insolent prick?” The man growled, and Willie fought back the urge to just fucking deck him. Caleb was angry enough as it was.

“I said I’ll get you some glass noodles.” He responded, turning to start and walk away.

“Carbonara, I said!” The man yelled after him, and Willie stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket, hiding it, before flipping the bird.

And as the night continued, so did the pain. Willie grit their teeth and forced themselves to work through it - this had to be Caleb’s punishment, right? Fine. This wasn’t what they thought would’ve been the punishment, but they supposed it was better than being erased from existence.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t.

The pain continued, night after night, days turning into weeks. And every night it got worse, and worse, and somewhere along the line Willie found themselves unable to skate, the phantoms pains (not the real pain, that only happened when they were working, this was just the aftermath of those pains) wracking their body and leaving them curled up in a ball on whatever couch they could manage to get to before they collapsed. Ghosts didn’t sleep, but man did Willie wish they did.

And then, one night, it was just too much. It was a dancing night - those were the worst, Willie had found. He had used to love dancing, and he still did! But it just…. It just hurt. Dancing hurt so much. Every step, every move, every leap brought more of that phantom, leftover pain. As for the episodes themselves, Willie had found that the best way to stick through the pain was to stand still for a moment. But that wasn’t an option when he was dancing - the music continued, whether he liked it or not, and thus, so did the dancing.

Willie couldn’t, not anymore. He couldn’t keep going. A particularly bad jolt hit them mid-air, and they missed their landing, tumbling across the floor. He dragged himself to his feet, but he didn’t keep dancing. He couldn’t, not anymore. He couldn’t. He just wanted Caleb to end it already. So Willie just…. Left. Using his ghostly powers took too much energy, so instead he simply walked out of the club, people gaping and staring as he did so. Screw them.

They exited the area of the hotel that was officially designated as the club, collapsing against a wall and sinking to the floor. When Caleb appeared in front of him, he didn’t respond, just simply nodded. “Just…. Just do it.” He said weakly, no longer having the strength to carry on.

Willie expected a smirk, or a laugh, or anything except what he got - which was a frustrated groan. “Oh, I wish I could do that. Unfortunately, getting rid of you would prevent me from obtaining my current desire, which is - “

“Let me guess. It's me joining you.” A voice said from behind Caleb, a voice that couldn’t be speaking. No, there was no way. He was gone, he had moved on, there was no way- He didn’t finish the thought before a girl who had suddenly appeared next to the man thrust her arm to the side, sending Caleb careening across the hall, and then Willie could see him. Him. It was Him. He knelt down, taking Willie in His arms.

“I thought I lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”


End file.
